


The Future visits the Past

by MistBorn_SprenDeath



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Magic Revealed, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistBorn_SprenDeath/pseuds/MistBorn_SprenDeath
Summary: Arthur's court is visited by a young boy, one who knows the prophecies and their future. He is the son of Magic.





	The Future visits the Past

The problem with telling lies is the fact that it only grows, becoming bigger and bigger as you have to cover up the ever hidden and expanding truth. And once you reach the point where you want to admit to the truth, to stop lying to the people you care about, it seems impossible to both keep their trust and to bring out the truth. It’s like prolonging the pain of taking off a bandage because it will hurt, even though it’s the right thing to do it is the harder thing to do.

  
This was Merlin’s dilemma that grew by the hour. Uther Pendragon was long dead and Arthur was King of Camelot but Merlin still couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend and King.

  
Beyond the fear of the reaction, Merlin had grown up in a world that ingrained the deepest fear of discovery into the hearts of sorcerers who chose magic, one can only imagine the innate fear of a warlock born of magic. Few things were stronger than Merlin’s loyalty, but his own fear was much stronger than any faith Merlin had in his friendship with Arthur.

  
Arthur’s voice broke the warlock out of his contemplation, bringing him back to the courtroom where Arthur was holding trial. The trail for a young sorcerer.

  
“Merlin, are you going to attend to my goblet now or are you going to continue to stare blankly into space like an idiot?” Grumbling under his breath about Arthur being a prat, Merlin stepped forward with his pitcher and refilled the goblet.

  
Merlin was probably the boy’s senior by ten years, making the boy a youth who had yet to take up his father’s mantle. Brown eyes, brown hair, dirty and lanky, the young man would never have stuck out in Camelot’s crowds. There was nothing to distinguish him aside from the seven knights that guarded him as if he were about to break free at any moment. Merlin stared into those eyes and saw the familiar fear of discovery.

  
Arthur waved Merlin back before he turned to the young man. “What’s your name, boy?” Swallowing nervously as his hands rubbed together anxiously, he answered in a voice that quivered with frustration and fear. Frustration for being caught. Fear for being found. “Dagen of the Theon household, your High Kinglyness.”

  
Curiosity swirled at the forefront of Merlin’s mind as he took in the boy’s attitude. He didn’t act like a normal peasant boy, he acted more like Merlin than any commoner Merlin had ever come across.

 

“You have been accused of magic, Dagen. What is your plea?”

  
Those large doleful eyes turned from the King to meet Merlin’s, searching for something. Merlin felt frozen, suddenly fearful for his own secrets.

  
Dagen turned back to Arthur, ignoring the question. “Tell me, King of Camelot, have you ever heard of the prophecies? The ones about you and your protector?”

  
Merlin felt his heart stop. Dagen knew his secret, somehow. But the boy didn’t appear to be of druidic decent, he looked like a commoner of Camelot.

  
“The druid prophecies of the Once and Future King and his ally Emrys, they foretell of Albion, of the lands united. A kingdom of peace and prosperity.” Dagen tilted his head, pausing for a moment as he considered the King’s confused face. “A kingdom of Magic.”

  
Arthur considered the boy cooly, hand resting on Excalibur’s handle. “Answer the question, boy. What is your plea?”

  
Dagen’s eyes fell to the sword and his face broke out into a smile. “And of course, the legendary Excalibur. The sword in the stone. The blade of innocent of forged in the heart of dragon’s fire. The sword of immortals.”

  
Arthur’s calm exterior fell as his anger rose. “How do you know of such things? Consider yourself carefully before you answer, Dagen of Theon.”

  
Slowly and cautiously, Dagen stepped forward, ignoring the sudden tension in the room. “The same way I know you will die by your knight’s hand, and that your sister will die by the hand of your closest friend. I know these things just as I know Emrys hears me right now, warring with his fear. His fear of telling you he has magic, that he is magic.”  
Merlin couldn’t breathe, he felt as if the walls were crashing down around him.

  
This couldn’t be happening.

  
He wouldn’t let it.

  
“Arthur-” Merlin began, but Arthur snapped at him, “Shut up, Merlin!” before turning back to Dagen. “You are claiming that I have been consorting with a sorcerer, boy.”  
Arthur snapped angrily. “Who do you think you are?”

  
Those same doleful eyes turned back to Merlin and the warlock felt his gut sink in terrible realization. He knew those eyes. Those eyes were the same as a beautiful druid girl’s wide eyes.

  
“Freya,” Merlin breathed softly.

  
The ground began to shake.

  
Dagen drew himself up, standing like a King in his own right. “I am the son of the Lady of the Lake and of the Embodiment of Magic, of Emrys.” Then the boy smirked, lifting both of his hands. “I don’t have magic to command, but Magic commands me.”

  
The world around him exploded into light, golden streams of pure power.

  
Magic.

  
“Hagan!” The loud voice shook the ground, and Merlin balked in terror. He knew that voice.

  
There, in the middle of the room, was a middle-aged Merlin with a boy at his side that looked like a carbon copy of Arthur if it weren’t for his bright, hazel eyes.  
That was his voice.

  
Older Merlin cuffed Dagen’s ear. “Hagan! You know better than to tamper with my instruments!” The younger man deflated slightly, blushing in embarrassment. “It was Arkyn’s fault! He was the one who pushed me!”

  
The mini Arthur squawked in offense. “I did not! Hagan was the one who opened the cabinet!”

  
Merlin tried to breathe.

  
His son, Hagan, had gone back in time and used a fake name when he was caught. And then, older Merlin had gone back with Arthur’s son, Arkyn, to retrieve him.

  
All in front of present Arthur and his court.

  
Merlin felt his frayed nerves snap as he stepped forward, eyes flashing gold as he vanished and appeared next to his son. “I swear, I will ground both of you blathering fools when I first get the chance.”

  
Hagan and Arkyn both flinched.

  
“I don’t care,” Merlin continued, “If you’re a Prince, Arkyn, but the two of you will be cleaning out the stables for a month.”

  
Older Merlin met younger Merlin’s eyes with a pleading look in his eyes. Older Merlin had been panicked. “I’m sorry! He touched the mirror of Janelle and then vanished! And Freya already-” Older Merlin cut himself off at the slight crack of stone that surrounded the room. Merlin, the one who was (in every right) angry and terrified, felt intense panic twinge his perception. “Freya, is she-?” Older Merlin bit his lip, not willing to disturb more of the past. “That is for you to discover.”

  
Hagan and Arkyn, who had been silent up to that point, finally spoke.

  
Arkyn sounded very regretful as if the mention of Freya made him realize the direness of the situation. “I’m sorry, Uncle Emrys, I didn’t mean for the cabinet to be open when I pushed Hagan! It’s all my fault! I’m so sorry!”

  
It took some prompting from Arkyn’s boney elbow before Hagan also apologized. “I’m sorry, dad. I know you had wanted to tell Uncle Arthur yourself, but I got so excited and I wanted to help you but then I messed everything up. I’m sorry.”

  
Merlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two are going to be more trouble than Arthur.” Hagan grinned, “Absolutely! How could you expect anything less from the son of a warlock and the son of a resurrected King?”

  
Older Merlin cuffed Hagan’s ear again as he rolled his eyes, “You are going to have to answer to Ceridwen and Aiyana once we get home, young man, don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily.” Then, turning to Merlin, Older Merlin nodded once as his eyes flashed gold and a single spell was uttered. “Corrixa o erro de tempo.”(Correct the error of time) And they were gone.

  
Arthur’s voice was low and dangerous behind him. “Merlin, you have five seconds to explain to me what just happened.”

  
His fear was not gone but neither was his hope for the future.

  
“I’m a warlock and have been practicing magic in the name of your Kingdom since the day I entered Camelot.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a random idea I had that actually did not go how I was planing but Hey, when Inspiration strikes, you write. I hope you guys were able to enjoy this rushed fic - and comment down below if there was any confusion that I can help clear up for you! Thanks for reading!


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